


blessings of running away

by trixie_moon



Series: HQ Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Car Accidents, Hurt/No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, I’m sorry Mamoru, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, On the Run, Whumptober 2020, Whumptober Day 5, bring on the pain, im sorry atsumu, itll be cleared up soon, run off the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_moon/pseuds/trixie_moon
Summary: Maybe this is a blessing, getting into this crash.Whumptober Day 5 - "On the Run"
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Inarizaki Band Conductor, Miya Atsumu/Original Male Character(s), Miya Atsumu/Takahara Jirou
Series: HQ Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907605
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Creative Chaos Discord Recs, Whumptober 2020





	blessings of running away

They’re spinning? Why are they spinning? Atsumu doesn’t know. His head is spinning. The world outside is spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.

It stops. _Crunch. Poomf_. The airbags deploy. Atsumu can’t breathe. But he can’t afford to stop. Ignoring his pain, the way his head spins, he hoarsely asks, “Is everyone okay?”

He hears pained groans. “Y-Yeah,” comes Jirou’s voice, pained and weak. “I’m okay, babe. Taro-nii?”

But Taro doesn’t answer, it’s Mamoru, and the way he speaks chills Atsumu to the very core. “He won’t wake up.”

Atsumu’s throat constricts and he can’t breathe, but he doesn’t know why. Takahara Taro isn’t his boyfriend, Jirou is. But at the same time, he’s Ji’s precious ‘Taro-nii’.

“W-We need to get out of the car,” says Mamoru firmly. “They’ll kill us if they find us here,”

Jirou nods, Atsumu can see it across the giant mess of airbags that takes the center of their car. He reaches across to gently squeeze Jirou and the latter melts into the touch. Atsumu smiles and pushes open the door, but before he can walk around to the other side, he feels his knees buckle. 

The fifteen-year-old winces, his hands are cut up and bloody. That’s not to mention that when he tries to take another step, his legs burn. It’s not the satisfying burn after practice either. No, this one is a warning burn. Something is wrong. 

But he can’t focus on that now. 

Atsumu limps to the other side of the car, glad in a very twisted way that the car has been run into a ditch and there seems to no longer be anyone there. He knows why this happened, because of who he loves and he’s just glad that he doesn’t have to see _their_ faces and how _they_ will react to knowing that their son is still alive. 

He pries open the door, taking Jirou’s much smaller hands in his own and pulling him to standing. They’re both wobbling now, both off-balance from the crash and it’s clear to both of them that Jirou’s hurt. His leg is bloody and he’s leaning all his weight against his left leg and leaning against the car, making it creak.

Atsumu feels his breath slow down and he finally feels calm. He squeezes Jirou’s hands, and Jirou smiles at him through the small tears forming in his beautiful brown eyes. His short brown hair is sticking up even more than usual, and he just looks beautiful. 

A pity that Taro isn’t the same. 

Mamoru finally comes around, Taro wrapped in his arms. “He has a pulse and his breathing is fine, but he’s not waking up. I already called an ambulance.”

Atsumu almost lets go of Jirou and _that_ would have been a bad idea, the only reason they’re both standing at this point is because they’re holding hands. 

“No.” he says firmly. “N-No, we can’t. Not now, we need to go away. If they find us...if they find us, we’re dead. We’re dead.”

The finality of those two words scares Atsumu more than anything else he’s ever experienced. Not even The Bastard’s belt cracks scare him like this. 

Mamoru sighs, his black hair framing his face and making him look much older than his actual age of twenty and more like a man three times that age. “All right,” he finally says. You guys still need to be looked at. I don’t care, Taro and I are old enough to be your legal guardians if we need to do anything. But you two need to get looked at. You’re literally covered in blood, ‘Tsumu,”

And Atsumu finally takes a good look at himself. Mamoru is right. His hands are rapidly being caked with blood coming from the scrapes of his hands. His legs still burn and he honestly doesn’t understand why he isn’t screaming right now. Isn’t that what most people do when they know they have a severe injury?

But Miya Atsumu is not most people. He’s been beaten black and blue, day in and day out for the last eight and a half years, and beatings like that grow thicker skin and even thicker pain tolerances. He laughs quietly when he’s taken in the ambulance to the hospital. 

_Maybe this was a blessing after all._


End file.
